A Beautiful Mess
by xoLadyO
Summary: Welcome to Hogwarts University of Applied Studies! Meet the two top frat houses on campus: Salazar's and Godric's Boys! AU / non-magic / HP/DM - RW/PP - HG/BZ / slash
1. We've got the best of both worlds

**Argh… so.. I know I've been pretty awful with this… I had to leave for a couple of months for a job I got (ok.. so I was working abroad which did make it seem so much better, but where the hell did my summer vacation go? Now I'm back in school and I didn't even get to finish all the stories I had planned…)**

**By the way, thank you for all the reviews I got (on my one shot and on the other started story – I promise I'll post some new chapters for that one too!)**

**Anyway, you know the drill, I own nothing. Well, I do have a shoe I live in… No, wait, I don't own that one either…**

**Enjoy this story/songfic? I guess… **

**d(.)b**

**"A Beautiful Mess"**

**You've got the best of both worlds**

**You're the kind of guy who can take down a man,**

**And lift him back up again**

"Look, they're here."

"What's with the ties?"

"Hey, look, that one brought a date with him again…"

"Ew… why would he bring a ginger date?"

"Hey! Watch your mouth!"

"Watch out Ronald, maybe you're next…"

"Git!"

The gathering of twenty something year olds burst out laughing, collapsing one against the other in a fit of uninhibited amusement, the beers and various drinks having clearly had their effect.

It was Thursday night, and as per usual, the select few that made up the Godric Frat House were out for a night on the town, starting with a few pints downed at the Hog's Head, a local student watering hole, located smack right in the middle of campus.

All the other students crowding the pub also attended the Hogwarts University of Applied Studies. The school was meant for students who wanted a more hands on experience in their journey to learning and joining the workforce. All sorts of courses were available, and kids from all around the country –and even from abroad- often came to study there. The school was located in a rather out of the way town, a few hours from London, England. It was mostly a student town, with a few families, couples and retirees.

The students of Hogwarts, despite their wide variety of majors, were well integrated with one another, and the dean was a friendly old man who liked to promote group sports and campus events.

Just like in any other university, one had the possibility of joining not just a sports team, but also different clubs, associations, councils, and, of course, a frat house or sorority. None of these were obligatory; in fact, some of them were rather hard to get into and had quite the reputation.

Godric's Boys was one of the most envied frat houses around campus. The members were known to be handsome, brilliant at sports, witty, daring, and, most importantly, always up for a good time or a good challenge.

This year, only five new recruits had been hand-picked out of the hundreds of new arrivals. A month into the start of classes and they were already joined at the hips. When you spotted one, the other four were never far behind.

Gathered around a small wooden table in the corner, the five were currently nursing their third pints and having a good laugh.

There was Neville Longbottom, a brown-haired brown-eyed boy whose face sometimes looked a little too innocent, especially with his bad habit of widening his eyes at every spoken word. He was of an average height, with a stockyness about him that he sometimes carried awkwardly but which disappeared whenever he stepped out onto the rugby pitch. He was a gentle soul really, his friends liked to joke, and they had especially teased him after they had discovered his flat was invaded with rescued potted plants.

To Neville's left was a sandy-haired and slightly taller male, who spoke energetically, punctuating every sentence he spoke in that Irish accent of his with a violent thump of his mug against the table. Seamus Finnigan was as cocky and loud-mouthed as any good-looking Irish lad ought to be, his mother often said. And she could not have spoken truer words. He kept his hair short and his eyes were a light brown, often twinkling as he laid out his next prank plan or shared some sort of dirty story with the rest of the group. He was a bit clumsy, and often caused ruckus, but his ability to recognize his own faults and have a good laugh about them made him easy to forgive.

On the right side of Neville, the tallest and lankiest of the group had opted to stand up and lean against the wall rather than sit. He claimed his legs couldn't fit under the table, but Seamus had pointed out that he was just trying to show off for the ladies. But why exactly _shouldn't_ he show off? Hey, you know the saying, if you have the goods, advertise them. No? Dean Thomas was the artist of the group. With dark-skin, black eyes and long limbs to match his swanky demeanor, he had no trouble getting a date. Sadly, he often preferred to stay home and work on some project or go out with the boys than to 'get himself a girl and get laid for fuck's sake', as Seamus so gallantly phrased it.

On Seamus' left, his face slowly returning to a normal shade after his brief outburst was Ronald Weasley, commonly introduced as 'Ron' –except perhaps by his mother, but she's hardly the focus of our attention for the moment. Ron was a gangly red-head, not quite as tall as Dean, but definitely above average. He had wider shoulders though, and had filled in quite nicely from years of football and water polo. His freckles and baby blue eyes were his best attributes, his sister used to tease him, and if only he learned to keep his mouth shut he might get himself a girlfriend, she always added. He did have a tendency to get carried away, and easily misinterpreted what others said to him. Despite not being the studious type, he was actually quite clever, seeing windows where others saw closed doors.

Last but not least, in the spot between Dean and Ron, casually balancing on the two back legs of his chair was the fifth member of the new batch of Godric frat boys. He was of average height and muscular, toned from the years of practicing various sports. His skin still had that summer's tan, betraying his job had been outdoors. His hair was… Well, his hair was a mess. Shaggy black locks curling around his green eyes and sticking up in every direction. Shaggy? Yes, _shaggy_ indeed… Harry Potter, new golden boy of Godric's, always looked _just shagged_. His modesty made up for it though, and it was hard to envy such a guy. Despite his usually good intentions, he was often impatient and easily provoked and his stubbornness was already legendary throughout the school.

Harry Potter grinned brilliantly as he whispered something to Ron –the whole group may have been closer than a kiss, but those two were practically one and the same.

The current subject of conversation was a certain other close-knit group of males: The Salazar Frat House Boys. Godric and Salazar were rumored to have an unspoken rivalry between the two, and the boys in both groups competed against each other in classes, sport teams and pretty much everything else that made up a student's life at Hogwarts. Why? Perhaps it was because the Salazar boys were just as good-looking, and rumored to be more discreet, less outspoken, more clever and much, much more stylish and classy. They were all from old English noble families, and had an air about them that made them stand out wherever they went.

This year, unlike in Godric, only three new first years had been deemed worthy of being initiated into Salazar's House. The taller than most trio had not been seen socializing much with others yet, and they mostly kept to themselves, silent when they knew they were being eavesdropped on. The Godric Boys had taken it to spying on them, often wondering what the hell made them so bloody special and why they acted so stuffy. They had been in for a surprise when they had realized that the Salazar trio was quite the animated and quick-witted group when they thought they were not being observed.

Theodore Nott was the tallest of the three, and he probably easily surpassed even Dean Thomas, but he had a narrow build and a thin face. He had short blondish hair and hazel eyes, which he never focused on one person for too long. He was seen as the wisest of the three, always stepping in to quietly resolve random conflicts between any students.

Blaise Zabini was the charmer of the group, smooth-talking his way out of any possible situation thrown at him with ease. His good looks were rather helpful in that aspect. He was tall, but not overly so –the smallest of the three- and had the build of an athlete. With high cheekbones, dark skin, and long slanted brown eyes, it was hard to resist agreeing to whatever he said. He flaunted his looks, his bright grin and his money more readily than the others, but still had the elegance to carry it well.

Flanked by the two, smack right in the middle, was Draco Malfoy, easily the prince of the Salazar boys. He was truly of noble blood, and money had been with his family for generations and generations. Not just money either. Class. Style. Power. Draco Malfoy walked around as if he owned the world. In all fairness, that probably wasn't too far off the truth. His platinum blond hair wisped down to a bit below his ears, framing his delicate features perfectly. He had the face of an aristocrat, and his mercury eyes could take down anyone who opposed him. Always well-dressed and well-groomed, he was never seen out in public looking anything but brilliant.

The Salazar boys were leaning against the bar, appreciatively sipping glasses of fine whiskey. Nothing but the best for these boys. Nothing but the best. A rule of thumb they lived by daily.

A few girls had gathered around them, already a bit tipsy and getting too frisky. The trio seemed to be indulging them in with some chatter, mostly just nodding along to whatever they said. Theo was trying to discreetly hide his boredom, looking away from the sorority girls and flickering his gaze around the busy pub, locking eyes with female and male students alike for only seconds at a time. Blaise was the most entertained of his friends at the moment, quite enjoying the proximity and social attentions of the gorgeous third year girls. He spoke in hushed tones, telling jokes and tossing around compliments like candy to a roomful of children. Draco was standing a bit closer than normal to a second year, who belonged to neither the Salazar nor the Godric House. The red headed male had thrown a casual arm around Draco's shoulders, and it was clear by the blonde's cringe and slight wrinkle of his nose that he disapproved of the action.

No matter their current preoccupations, Theodore, Blaise and Draco all kept turning their heads towards the loud group gathered around one of the wooden tables in the corner. Identically, the five Godric boys repeatedly glanced towards the trio at the bar.

Which group would break first and acknowledge the other one was present? Would a challenge be issued? Would a competition follow? Would these first years put behind them the feuds of the past? Or wasn't it much more fun this way?

**More coming soon! It's a real promise this time! **

**Oh, and reviews please! I love to know what I can improve on (probably everything -.-)**


	2. You can call it fiction

A/N: disclaimer, I own nothing… / thank you so much to everyone who reviewed or favorite, glad to see some people like it ^^ I'll try my best to be better with updates, it's just, well, to be honest, I've been working on an original story and that's been taking up quite a load of time… anyway, enjoy this ^^ also, I don't have a beta, so this is all uncensored, unfixed, and highly imperfect… still, worth a read I hope.

hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp

The night ended much like all the previous Thursday nights so far that year. When the pints –for the Godric Boys- the whiskeys –for the Salazar Boys- and the fruity drinks -for the crowds of giggling students- had made everyone a little unsteady on their feet and much louder than necessary, the party had been moved to another pub for a round of shots. And then on to the next bar. And so forth, until only a few remained, dancing unabashedly to the music in one of the town's clubs. Well, dancing was a little too kind to describe the unfiltered movements of the drunken twenty year olds. Harry was a classic example of what a tapeworm would look like if it had a seizure in a room lit by strobe lights. And that was being overly complimentary once more. Cheeks flushed, hair tousled, all the students present had that same glazed look in their eyes as they downed more drinks and swayed as an overly sweaty and stumbling mass. Certain lines had however not been crossed. Not yet anyway. The rivaling frat houses had not deemed necessary to associate with one another in the least bit that night, and had avoided contact even more so than usual. It hadn't actually been that hard, considering the Salazar trio never accompanied the hordes into the nightclubs. Most likely the place was not sanitized enough for their taste.

In the wee hours of the morning, just as light began to illuminate the sky, forming a brand new day, the crowd in the club began to thin, students heading home, or walking off hand in hand with someone else, to continue the party a little more privately.

Harry had an arm around Neville's waist, supporting the other boy's slumped weight. They had lost Dean and Seamus much earlier, and Harry hoped they had a good explanation for letting him drag his drunken friend back to his flat by himself. He didn't even have his keys. Drat.

Ron suddenly appeared from a side door of the club, partly tripping over his own feet before catching his balance and looking around, a clearly confused expression on his face and two fingers on his lips. He spotted Harry and rushed over to help his mate, grimacing as he saw Harry's reproachful scowl. He silently fell into step, helping Harry lug a moaning Neville. "Not time for bed yet…" the brown-haired boy was muttering. The shuffling trio, all unsure on their feet –although some worse off than others- made their way through the deserted streets, occasionally shivering when the cold wind bit at their sleeveless arms. They arrived at the residence building where both Neville and Ron stayed. The two did not share a room, but they happened to be on the same floor, and both disliked their respective roommates with a burning passion.

"Don't have my keys…" Harry managed to mumble out, before dropping onto an armchair and curling up in a ball. Neville had been deposited in his own room, a glass of water on his night table. Ron barely even nodded in response, snoring before he hit the mattress, his arms stretched out in a cross. Not that Harry would have heard anyway, his head had lolled over to the side, his mouth hanging partly open.

hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp

Harry's mouth felt like sandpaper and he was certain there was a miniature heavy metal band practicing their new scream song in his head. He had woken up not long ago with a terrible kink in his neck from his ill-advised sleeping position and had not yet managed to get rid of it. After realizing it was Friday and he had an Ethics class before 12, he had unwillingly trudged all the way back to the outskirts of town –a half hour walk away. Only upon arrival did he remember he had forgotten his keys the night before. He knocked on the door for what felt like ages, not helping the pounding in his own mind, before his barely awake godfather had opened the door.

"Rough night, cub?" Sirius Black asked, stifling a yawn and pushing straight black hair out of his eyes. "Uhn." Harry replied, entering the flat and heading straight for the shower. He divested himself of all clothing, and stood under the steaming water, mind blank, until Sirius' voice reminded him of the time. "I'm leaving now! I left a note from Remus in the coffee tin! Bye! Take it easy cub!"

Harry turned off the water and sighed, wrapping a towel around his hips before stepping out of the bathroom and into the hallway just in time to see Sirius' retreating figure. "Bye!" he called out, just in time before the front door slammed shut. His godfather dropped in once every few weeks to stay for a weekend or a few days. He lived in London, with his high school sweetheart, but didn't mind the drive necessary to check up on his favorite –and only- godson. Vice-versa, Harry also often rode out to London during long school breaks, just to spend some time with Sirius and Remus. He got along marvelously with the two of them, and although they tended to forget they were now adults when they were around him, Harry loved them with all his heart. The fact that they had been so close to his parents only made them more like real family to him.

hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp

Harry let out a loud breath as he plopped down into his seat. He closed his eyes for an instant before placing his motorcycle helmet on the floor in front of him and taking a notepad out of his army green satchel. "Thanks for saving me a seat 'Mione." He whispered in the ear of the brown-haired girl sitting next to him. The girl didn't respond, absorbed by what the professor was saying at the moment. "You're ten minutes late." She finally replied in a hushed reprimanding tone, handing him a pencil she knew he had forgotten to bring. "Ah thanks." "Don't mention it. Pay attention a little, will you?" The girl turned hazelnut eyes to glance up and down at her friend, "Someone had a good night last night." She teased, taking in Harry's hungover face. "Uhn. Was alright. Normal Thursday night." He shrugged innocently. He was lying completely. It had been a normal Thursday night. For everyone else. But they both knew that although Harry was no tank, he was no lightweight either. And something must have been bothering him for him to drink so much that he had woken with an elephant dancing in his head.

Hermione sighed, reaching her left hand into her pocket and pulling out a small packet of aspirine while her right hand continued its neat scribbling on her paper. "Take two. Or three." She ordered, dropping the tablets into Harry's lap. The green-eyed boy obeyed gladly, gulping the white pills dry and attempting to concentrate on the man at the podium.

Luckily enough for Harry, this class was the only one he had on Fridays. Not only that but his headache had dissipated and he no longer felt sick. _Unluckily_ for him, this lecture was three hours long, and now that his stomach was no longer upset, he dreamt of fresh coffee and buttered bagels.

After three power naps, fifteen snores, twenty sudden movements as he regained reality and about hundred elbow jabs from Hermione, the lecture was finally over. Harry rubbed at his bruised ribs, grimacing lightly and pretending to thump Hermione over the head with his helmet.

"So, are we still on for gummy bears?" The ebony-haired boy asked the smiling girl at his side as they exited the lecture hall and headed towards his bike. The two had been excellent friends from the start of the term, reuniting like lost-long siblings. They already knew each other inside out and had private jokes and traditions. Every Friday afternoon, they would stop for candy and energy drinks at a convenience store, before driving out to Harry's apartment to watch an old movie, and then drive back to Hermione's place to get ready for a night out, or stay in and study.

"Actually," the shorter girl said with a small grimace, "I was rather hoping you could give me a ride straight to my house tonight. I promised a friend I'd help her out…" she explained. "You're more than welcome to stay though, we might need your fashion expertise…" she joked, knowing full well that Harry's attire rarely consisted of anything fancier than worn jeans and faded t-shirts. "And we can rent a movie after, I don't feel like doing homework today…" she added with a small pout.

Harry sighed, pretending to be upset for a second before grinning and shaking his head, "If you throw popcorn into the deal, I might be tempted to grace you with my presence…" he said, snorting out a repressed laugh.

The curly-haired girl rolled her eyes, smacking Harry's shoulder with her binder, "Yes, whatever you want your Highness…" she answered.

hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp

It didn't take very long for the two friends to reach Hermione's house. It was old, and looked broken and spooky from the outside, but everything was fully functional, and the inside was actually quite cozy. Harry loved the placed. Despite being a student resident, he thought it was one of the homeliest places he had ever visited. He also simply adored Hermione's roommates. He got along with the two other girls splendidly, and they had also taken quite a liking to him. There was Luna, pale and blonde, who moved around in the most ethereal of ways, always wide-eyed and smiling beatifically. Harry had half a mind to introduce her to Neville, but the poor bloke was much too frightened at the prospect of a blind-date. The third girl to share the two story house was Pansy, a black-haired vixen, with a sharp tongue and a sharper mind. Harry had been frightened of her at first, as she had been quite cold to him. She had instantly warmed up when she had realized that Harry was just a friend of Hermione's, with no ill attention towards the bookish girl. As he discovered, Pansy was only fiercely protective of her friends, and she had been 'testing' Harry. The two had a Politics class together, and now spent it sitting together at the back, making wry and witty remarks about their snooty professor.

"You should have told me it was because Pansy had a date…" Harry grumbled, locking his motorcycle in the driveway of the tipsy-topsy house.

"Jealous?" Hermione asked, leading the way up the creaky steps and through the tilted doorway. Harry only grunted in reply. Of course he wasn't jealous, but he happened to be just as loyal as Pansy was, and he wanted to know more about this potential date.

"Look who I brought!" Hermione cried out, slamming the door shut and throwing her cardigan and school bag onto a nearby chair.

"Hullo Harry,"

A dreamy voice greeted him as he kicked out of his red converses and shrugged off his worn leather jacket. It was a bit warm for the fall air, but Harry loved it too much, and had pulled it back out of his closet as early as possible.

"Hey Luna," the green-eyed boy nodded back, waving a hand in casual greeting.

"Get your flamboyant ass up here Potter!" a voice called down from the top of the stairs, "I need an honest male opinion, flaming queen or not!"

"Pansy!" Hermione shrieked, already offended on Harry's behalf. Harry didn't seem bothered in the least as he traipsed his way to the second floor. Pansy never minced her words, but she also wasn't one to judge. She called Harry a queen in the same way she would have said his ass looked particularly delicious in those jeans.

Hermione quickly followed behind her best male friend, Luna soon behind her, a bowl of cookie batter in her arms. The three inhabitants of the little house (plus their favorite guest) found themselves dispersed in Pansy's room, watching her frantically toss clothes around as they attempted to vote on a best outfit for her mystery date.

hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp

Hermione was settled on the swiveling desk chair, rolled up in a ball and occasionally giving the wall a sharp push so that she rotated around.

Luna sat cross-legged on Pansy's large bed, not far from Harry, lying down on his back, his head hanging from the edge, eyebrows furrowing as Pansy disappeared into the closet once more to grab another garment. His hand absent-mindedly reached into the bowl of batter to take a scoop, bringing sticky fingers to his mouth.

Hermione's head turned sharply towards the door of the bedroom, which stood ajar. "Did you hear that?" she asked, "Is someone ringing the doorbell?"

If someone had indeed been ringing the doorbell, they didn't wait long for an answer. Whoever it was had simply opened the unlocked front door, judging by the tell tale creaking.

A call of "Honey, I'm home!" and one of "Darling, are you cheating on me?" rang out, both spoken jovially and by two different but distinctly male voices.

All four occupants of Pansy's room halted their movements immediately, before three pairs of eyes turned towards mentioned owner of the room.

"Shit."

hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp hphphphphphphphp

A/N: oh me oh my, what comes next? Reviews, critics, comments and suggestions much appreciated please ^^

Also, I actually have the next chapter almost done, so this time, no waiting around for ages .


End file.
